Here is my first short story published, by the on-line journal Barcelona Review. It’s not about aid workers, but there’s a guy who plays tennis, which is a bit like delivering cold vaccines in a baking hot climate. click here to view it on-line.  

Here’s the opening paragraph.

RIGHT NOW. My mother clasps the hand of my mother-in-law from the top, pressing it to her thigh. Under a slate shelf of clouds the two hands tremor slightly from the intensity of the grip. My infant son gurgles, oblivious. Or he sleeps in his stroller which my mother teeters, unaware of her movement. Taut ropes of stoicism and heartache draw my mother’s face into old age. If my father is there, which I doubt, he is probably sitting in the rear, not next to her, his eyes avoiding everyone.